Chakell

“I was there,” I exclaimed. “I could see myself, and the fire, the cool from the window, the table was piled with books, and I was writing something. And it was life, my life, and…and there were footsteps on the stairs.” “Whose?” “I don’t know. But he sounded like the other half of home.”
― Beth Brower, The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion: Vol. 5

“Humans--hurried, worried creatures that you are--seem to think that grief is a thing that must be filled. You think grief is a hole. A hollow. An absence.

But it is none of those.

Grief is a thing with weight and bulk--perhaps the heaviest thing of all. It pushes at the edge of your soul, forcing it into a different shape. You can never fill it, because it is not empty. And it will not shrink with time. But you can learn to carry it. Practice noticing it less as it becomes a more familiar part of you.

In the end, your grief will always be there, taking up space.

And I suppose that's the beautiful thing about a soul:

There is infinite space.

You may even find that there is space for more grief. But--this is what I want you to remember--there is room for more joy. And it is your job to open your arms and welcome joy and joy and joy until your grief looks small in comparison.”
― Aubrey Hartman, The Undead Fox of Deadwood Forest

“Aren’t you supposed to be in a crypt somewhere, for your sins?” Islington asked in a ducal tone. “They evicted me,” I snapped. “Who?” “The dead.”
― Beth Brower, The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion: Vol. 2

“Does he read?” “Oh, I expect not. How else would one remain so incredibly stupid?”
― Beth Brower, The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion: Vol. 3